Shining Armor
by medusaoblongata
Summary: A story of young Reinhardt and a lady he meets/falls for (OC). Romance, angsty, smut.


There was something about this city that he'd never liked. Others seemed charmed by the rustic architecture and the open-air markets, but he'd always been less enamored by those traits, keeping his head down and making sure his business was concluded as quickly as possible. For he knew, oh he knew, that the old stones in a city had seen old blood run in them and that-that was a curse that was hard to shake. He was deep in these thoughts when she collided with him, the young woman letting out a squeak of surprise and nearly tumbling onto the ground from the force of the collision.

"Sorry, please, sorry," she babbled, tilting her head up just enough that he could see past the scarf that shrouded her features, a wince flickering across his face as he beheld the bruises that circled one eye, both cheeks and the barely-healed split across her lip. A wince followed by the abrupt sensation of being knocked over the head as her eyes met his; large, violet eyes that widened in similar surprise as a bolt of heat passed between the two of them. Then she had ducked down again and was scampering past him as if the devil himself was chasing her. Which, in a way, he was, if the shouts of 'thief!' 'stop her!' that echoed from the way she'd come were any indication. He soon found himself staring down at a furious-looking shopkeeper who demanded if he'd seen the woman pass.

"No," he growled out, the merchant looking as if he might press the issue for a moment before the sheer size of the other man shut him up and he sulked back down the side-street.

Curiosity got the better of him and he, too, turned-this time to follow the path the woman had taken, his long legs carrying him down the city streets with ease, and his height making it easy to pick out the scurrying figure from a far greater distance than most. In time, he became aware that he was not the only party interested in the lady, as a shortcut past an alleyway caught him an earful of rough voices discussing their prey for the evening. A "purple-eyed bitch" seemed like a fairly narrow range of possible individuals and he ambled back out onto the main street, head tilted as he made a few calculations and then carried on, rewarded at last by the sight of his quarry vanishing into a dilapidated old building. Many long minutes passed and then she reappeared once more, her shoulders sagging somewhat, steps slower. It was then that he realized her gait was plagued by unevenness and he followed behind her at a distance, watching as she paused by a clump of trees to press her hand against her side and bow her head-and then she vanished. He perked a golden eyebrow, rubbing a finger against his nose as he padded on after her, pushing his way into the small grove with a rumble of curiosity. And then he felt the prick of what must have been a blade against his side and froze in place.

"Why-why are you following me?" She was attempting to sound fearsome, but he could hear the exhaustion and panic in her voice, a voice that was warm and melodic-ah, damn. He shook his head slightly to chase those notions from his mind before shifting, his hand moving faster than anyone ever seemed to expect from a man of his size, fingers circling and then squeezing her wrist until the blade dropped from her grasp. She gasped, the sound almost indignant, and then he realized that she was shaking like a leaf.

"Please, do not be frightened." When those words left his mouth, he could almost hear the way her jaw dropped, those beautiful eyes flicking up to his face once more. "I do not mean you harm."

She stared up at him, eyes searching that handsome face, the face framed by that lion's mane of blonde hair that she remembered from earlier, the face that was part of the body of the most massive man she'd ever seen, though she had no doubt nearly all of it was muscle. He seemed to be peering at her with what almost looked like worry, though she had no doubts it was a clever act, designed to lure her into trusting him. Then the pain returned, stabbing through her side like fire and she stumbled, the man catching her easily and then glancing down at his hands, the blood that had smeared on them bringing a true look of horror to his face.

"Messy, ain't it," she managed to rasp and then she became aware that he was lifting her into a careful carry and his long, determined strides were taking them out of the trees and back into the city. "No-it's not. Safe," she protested, a thought he dismissed with a somewhat arrogant snort. She had to admit it felt safe, nestled against his chest, the sound of his beating heart lulling her into relaxation and then unconsciousness and finally everything went black.

At some point she was startled into a surge of wakefulness by the sound of her rescuer roaring loudly at someone about fetching the doctor, though that brief awareness quickly vanished. It felt as if she were dreaming, she still clung to threads of consciousness deep inside her mind, but everything had been flattened out as if she were staring at walls painted black. It continued like this for what felt like an eternity until she was abruptly disturbed from her reverie by someone calling to her. She groaned, wanting them to let her be, but her harasser refused to listen. Again and again, they demanded that she wake up and she finally pushed her eyes open, ready to raise a hand and shove them away. Except her hand didn't rise, didn't barely so much as move, and her vision seemed to be terribly blurry. She blinked, the sudden brightness making matters even worse, and made a sound of confusion as the world around her began to slowly sharpen into focus. A white room, decorated with a flowery yellow window shade, a machine beside her that was slowly beeping-she paused, frowning at the machine, trying to discover its function before a burst of noise on the other side of her dragged her attention away.

"You're awake! My goodness, we weren't certain you were going to pull out of it," a cheerful-faced woman informed her, patting one of her hands gently. "It's a right miracle, if I do say so myself, but a welcome one! Especially with that husband of yours going about barking at the staff."

'Husband?' she tried to say, but what emerged was a dry croak, and her caretaker gave her a kind look and shook her head gently. "I'll go fetch you something to drink-and that dreadful man of yours," the nurse chirruped brightly. "You just be patient for me, my dear!"

It was easy to be patient when she could hardly move her head without exhausting herself and she could feel the tantalizing tendrils of sleep curling around her, sleep that fled as abruptly as a mouse from a cat as the door to her room nearly bounced off of its hinges and a very deep, very male voice swore loudly in another language outside. The nurse scurried in, throwing a disapproving glance over her shoulder even as she huffed her way over to her patient. The source of the disapproval made itself known, the massive, blonde-haired man stomping into the room and throwing a bitter glance at the doorway that he'd just cracked his head on before turning and giving the two of them a wide, if somewhat awkward, grin.

"Ah! She is awake!" He was loud. Incredibly loud, and the nurse gave him a withering stare before pressing a cup with a straw into his hand and huffing back out the way she'd come. He only had to take a single step before he was at her bedside, folding himself into the small chair there and giving her another smile. "I was worried!" Despite his loudness and his size, his hands were surprisingly gentle as they folded hers about the cup and he helped her drink, the first sip making her cough and then he gave a laugh as she greedily drank the rest.

"Husband?" The word fell from her lips in a dry groan and he had the manners to blush and look almost comically embarrassed.

"My apologies," he dragged his fingers through his hair, his smile decidedly abashed. "It was the only way I could keep an eye on you." She made a 'harrumph', shifting against the pillows and then tipping her head to smile at him sleepily.

"How-long have I been here?"

"Three days," came the answer and her eyes widened with surprise, the woman trying to push herself from the bed, only to end up pressed against his chest as he held her until she lapsed back against the pillows.

"My belongings-?" She cut off, but he simply smiled at her and let out a laugh.

"Safe and sound. I returned to the house you'd visited and found them."

The look she gave him was one of disbelief that quickly shifted into the kind of heated admiration that a man could grow to crave. She was silent for a long while and then one of her hands slowly reached out toward him and he folded her tiny fingers into his massive ones.

"Ellie," she finally breathed, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wil." He gave her another one of those wolfish smiles and she, despite herself, found an answer smile curving across her lips.

"Well, -Wil-." She coughed, wincing as she did so. "You've done your duty." His expression became abruptly stern and he shook his head.

"I have not completed my duty yet," he informed her, voice authoritative. "You will be released into my care. I will ensure that you are safe-personally."

She opened her mouth to protest and he silenced her with a look so fierce she could almost believe he was a lion in man's clothing.

"You have a shiny suit of armor somewhere, don't you," she quipped instead, and he gave a nod, winking. "Of course," she grumped, letting her eyes fall shut. He stayed, watching her sleep, the man a permanent sentinel.

The next week seemed by race by, the woman safely installed in the tiny spare room, each day her energy improving. He was surprised at how quickly she could draw a laugh or a grin from him, and after she discovered his battered compendium of Arthurian legends, she would curl up beside him on the uncomfortable sofa at night and listen to him read about knights and kings. She'd even taken to calling him Galahad, a name that he had to admit seemed quite fitting. Or at least it had been fitting until she'd dropped into his life; now every moment he spent near her made him ache to drag her into his arms and kiss that teasing smile from her face, and he groaned at the thought of her returning the gesture-groaned as he worked himself with a hand every damn night after she went to bed.

It was not until that fateful evening when they both retired to the little balcony to watch the fireworks in the city sky, both of them full of wine and good cheer, that things finally got out of hand. He became aware of the fact that she'd tucked herself up against his side, as if it was the most natural and comfortable way for her to be-and he had to admit that she fit perfectly against him. Her head tilted back and a smile split her face, the woman giggling as colored sparks lit the sky.

"Romantic, isn't it?"

"I-uh," he felt as if she'd just smashed him over the head, glancing down and hoping she couldn't see the sudden heat in his face. "Yes. I suppose. If one was trying for romance."

"Have you ever?" Her body felt so warm pressed up against his, purple eyes flickering across his face, and he felt his blood stir in a manner that seemed quite dishonorable.

"No. I mean. I-," he blinked at her, trying to force his brain to turn on once more.

"Never even kissed someone?" She kept pressing, and he felt his self-control beginning to fray.

"Once or twice," he retorted sourly. "But it meant nothing and thus was-without honor."

"Ah. Would you kiss me?" She raised an eyebrow at him, as if in challenge.

"No," he gritted out, rewarded by a look of hurt flashing across her face as she stepped away from him. "Ellie-."

"It's all right," she gave a shrug of her shoulders. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Ellie, it's not that I don't want to-." She tilted her head at him and he plunged ahead. "It's-I don't know if I can behave in a virtuous manner if I'm that close to you." She just stared at him for a long moment and then let out a strangled laugh.

"Stop playing the chivalrous knight," she snapped, glaring up at him rebelliously. "You can polish your armor some other time." He twitched and then gave her a long, heated look.

"So be it."

She found herself pinned up against the wall, her head cradled in one of his hands as he bent down and pressed his lips to hers; gently, and then with more urgency, the man groaning as her teeth nipped at his lower lip.

"El-," he began, and she stopped him by sinking her fingers into that mane of golden hair and soldering her mouth to his. He grunted, hooking his free hand beneath her bottom and hiking her up against him, her legs locking around his waist as he plundered her mouth with his tongue and then let his lips wander down her jaw and neck. She whimpered, fingers tugging on his hair, and then she was free from the wall and being carried inside, his lips never giving her a moment's peace until he laid her on the bed-his bed-and gently freed himself from her clutches.

She made a noise, a breathless, whining sound, and flicked her gaze up just in time to see him pull his shirt over his head and reveal the body underneath. That keening sloped into a purr of pure feminine appreciation, and he gave her one of those wild lion smiles in response.

"Your turn," he rumbled, bending down and sliding his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, helping her out of the clothes that suddenly seemed too hot and too constricting. One of his massive hands slid to her breast and a thumb flicked across her nipple, taunting. She gasped, arching up against him as he claimed her lips once more, and her hips pressed into him needily, grinding against his leg.  
"Wil, please-," she gritted out, eliciting a low chuckle in response, and then he was sliding her pants down and away, one hand cupping her sex and stroking her through the lace of her panties. She hissed, her head falling back against the mattress as his fingers tugged that lace aside and then one calloused thumb was grinding against those sensitive nerves, making her want to sob in frustration and need. It was then that one of his long fingers dipped inside her and she went quiet, eyes widening.

"Did I hurt you?" He looked terrified and she shook her head, latching onto his wrist to keep him from pulling away.

"N-no. It feels-perfect." Her cheeks heated as he gave the digit an experimental thrust, and she leaned up to wind her arms about his neck and drag him back into their kiss as his fingers-first one, then two, brought her dangerously close to the edge. "I-ah, -WIL-," she finally gave up with a helpless sob, shattering around him as he held her close.

He kept her nestled against him until her shaking had stopped, gently pulling his hand away and pressing a kiss to her forehead. She gave him a lazy, happy smile and then reached up to stroke his hand with her fingers.

"Your turn," she breathed, and he thought he must have been imagining things until she had neatly wriggled from beneath him and one of her hands had slipped into his trousers and her fingers wrapped-he swore harshly, rolling onto his back and staring at her as she freed his cock from its prison and stroked it.

"El. We-you don't-," he sputtered, protests dying in his throat as she straddled him and then leaned forward so they were nose-to-nose.

"Do you not want to?"

"God, woman," he groaned, hands coming to rest on her hips and squeezing. "There's nothing I want -more-."

"Well then." She gave a little nod and reached down, holding his shaft as she lined his tip up against her entrance. "Be patient. You're ah. Large." He was on the verge of apologizing for that when she began to slid him inside of her and all thoughts were lost in a burning haze of pleasure, his mirrored on her face as she gasped and then sank lower, purple eyes flicking to his. "Oh-."

He grunted, fighting the primal urge to thrust up deep inside her, and kept his gaze on her face, watching the way her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted as she moved, until finally he was hilted inside her and she was trembling atop him. He leaned up, winding his arms around her to keep her steady as his lips took hers, beginning to thrust, finally, slowly-so slowly. They stayed like this, forehead-to-forehead, as he took her with reverential sweetness, fingers tracing patterns along her back and her hip. When he felt her legs tighten and her arms begin to shake, he let himself over the edge of pleasure with her, roaring her name into the dark. She slumped against his shoulder, tucked so neatly, so perfectly, against him, and he gave a soft chuckle, holding her close.

"Ich liebe dich," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, the smile growing on his face when he realized that she was already asleep, a look of pure contentment on her features.

When he woke the next morning, she was gone. All trace of her scrubbed from his rooms as if she'd never existed. Despite his frantic searching, all of his tearing apart of the city, he wasn't destined to see her again until years later, deep into the omnic crisis.

The situation was grim. It didn't take a master tactician to see that they were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, and that with each omnic that fell, another five dropped in to take its place. It hardly mattered anyway, most of the soldiers were dead or dying, and he could feel his armor beginning to weaken beneath the weight of the ceaseless onslaught. Moreover, he was getting -tired-, each swing of the hammer carrying less force. He gave a bow of the head, breathing in deeply as he resolved to die the most heroic death he could, take out as many of the enemy as he could, in the hopes that some might still yet survive. It was just as he made this decision, came to peace with his fate, that something whizzed over his head, the projectile sparkling brightly in the air before it exploded into a thousand writhing arcs of lightning. The nearby omnics shuddered, many of them shorting out completely, others twirling wildly, taking down their fellows as they fell.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" The voice blasted through his confusion and he looked up just in time to see a figure vault over his head and then fire off another devastating electrical pulse into the midst of the robots. "NOW. MOVE IT, SOLDIER. GO GO GO." Conditioning kicked in and he turned to bark orders at the remaining soldiers, the survivors making a break for the drop point under the cover of their sudden savior. Their savior who, it seemed, was taking on an entire regiment of omnic rebels with explosive results. Reinhardt waited until the last man had made it to the waiting support copter before turning and glancing over his shoulder, eyebrows rising behind his helmet as the entire set of streets they'd occupied suddenly went up in a gout of crackling electric-laced flames. He thumped a massive fist against the copter, waving off the protests of the pilot, and set off back into the rubble as the copter blades whipped the dust into a frenzy around him. When the roar of the engines died, he was immediately struck by how terribly silent the world had become, and his clanking pace quickened as he shoved chunks of brickwork and rock aside.

"Hello?" His voice boomed across the empty landscape, puffs of dirt rising as he moved, and then he heard it, an answering noise that sounded distinctly like a cough. He changed course, veering toward the sound, and was rewarded by the limp wave of a hand from a heap of masonry nearby. Their savior-his savior, was lying on her back, her form coated with dust and fragments of glass, and she groaned as he carefully shifted the larger chunks of concrete from around her. "Are you hurt?"

"Wh-urrgh. Are we dead?" Something about her voice made his mind prickle with familiarity and he watched as she heaved herself into a sitting position and then raised her hands, both cybernetic, to her face and pulled away her ventilation helmet. Black hair tumbled out in waves and she prodded her cheeks with the tips of her fingers before turning her eyes up toward him. "I don't feel dead."

Eyes. Purple eyes. Something inside his brain clicked at the same time his heart caught in his chest, and the massive warhammer slipped from his grasp to clang to the ground.

"ELLIE?"

"Huh-wh-? How'd you know that name?" Her eyes narrowed and she patted her waist for her weapon, efforts forgotten when the man in front of her practically ripped off his helm and then sank to his knees in front of her. She looked almost as stricken as he did, all the color draining from her face in an instant. "W-wil?"

"I-I. Why-?" He couldn't even give voice to his thoughts, instead folding her into his arms for a fierce embrace, only releasing her when she gave a pained cough. "Where did you-where have you been? What -happened-?"

"Ahhh-." She reached up and rubbed the bridge of her nose gently with the tip of a metal finger. "Rapid extraction protocol is what happened. I couldn't tell you. I didn't know it was going to happen either. One minute, we were-well." She cleared her throat softly. "The next, I was being ripped through space and back into the staging lab." He stared at her blankly, mind incapable of processing the words she was saying at him. "Wil, I was there on a mission."

"Mission?" He repeated dumbly, fighting the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her wildly until something he could understand fell from her lips.

"I was injured carrying it out. You saved me. I just-," she chewed on her lip, "I had no idea how to tell you. I was under orders not to disclose-." Her words were cut off by the sudden influx of noise, the both of them glancing up to see that another, smaller chopper was coming in to land nearby. They watched in silence as it touched down, the door sliding open and a well-groomed blonde man hopping out to jog toward them.

"Wilhelm! Gwen! I wasn't sure either of you would come out of that in one piece!" He came to a halt, glancing between the two of them and then throwing a salute, one that Reinhardt somehow managed to half-heartedly return.

"Commander," the massive soldier greeted in return.

"Jack," she chirruped, giving the new man a wave, the familiarity of the greeting needling something deep inside him. Was he feeling jealous? Why would he. She'd lied to him about everything. -Everything-.

"Come on, we're clearing out of here." The commander reached down to offer Ellie-Gwen?-his hand, pulling her to her feet and then leaning down to murmur something that made her laugh. Reinhardt grimaced, feeling like murdering something with his bare hands, and snatched up his helmet, jamming it on his head so that they couldn't see the terrible sorrow on his face as he followed to the chopper and climbed aboard.

He managed to avoid her for nearly three whole days, her and that pretty-faced bastard Morrison, and it was only with some strenuous effort that he managed to hide his surprise at finding her waiting for him in his room one evening. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes shut as if she was deep in meditation.

"You're acting like a child." Her voice cracked like a whip in the silence, and he felt a familiar surge of anger as he glared down at her.

"Get out," he snarled. "Go back to your commander, -Gwen-." He threw the name that the agents seemed to favor at her like a gauntlet, raising an eyebrow as she let out an unladylike snort of amusement.

"He's not my anything," she retorted, leaning back on her metallic hands and returning his glare. "And -Gwen- is the callsign I chose when I agreed to work with the Watch. It's short for -Guinevere-." She smiled wryly as he flinched back in surprise. "I picked it to honor -you-." She pushed herself up from the bed, dusting invisible specks from her clothes and then making to push past him out the door. "But what do you care."

"El." One massive hand landed on her shoulder and he shook her gently. "I couldn't find you. I looked everywhere. I thought you were dead-or some bizarre figment of my imagination. Why didn't you say something? Anything? What were you even DOING there?" His voice cracked.

"I-ah. It was industrial espionage," she murmured, eyes flicking downward. "Protecting corporate interests."

"You're a -spy-?" He released her suddenly, as if she were a monster. "And a thief?"

"And other names besides," she remarked with a wry twist of the lips. "Not exactly the perfect match for a knight." He said nothing and so she forged ahead. "They debriefed me and then dispatched me again almost immediately. I had no time to find you. No way to get in touch. I have travelled across the world hoping that I might run into you again, Wil. So I could apologize." She let out a long breath. "For hurting you. For letting you down." She glanced up at him and then gave a soft shrug. "I just wanted to tell you the truth for once." She turned, pressing her fingers against the door latch, the motion abruptly aborted by him letting out a pained groan and then spinning her around and smashing his lips to hers. She made a surprised sound that faded into a moan of need, metal fingers threading into his hair as she pressed herself up against him.

"Ellie," he murmured against her mouth. "-Ellie-."

"I'm here," came the soft gasp. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Damn right you're not." He hauled her up, carrying her back to the bed and setting her down, inspecting her tousled hair and already kiss-swollen lips with a smug smirk. "You're staying right where you belong." Then he was down at her level, lips meeting hers. He proceeded to show her exactly how much he'd missed her, lips and fingers coaxing soft cries of pleasure from her, until finally they were both naked and sweaty and she was seated astride him once more, the tip of his cock resting against her entrance.

"Be-be gentle," she pleaded. "I haven't. Been with anyone since-." She trailed off, frowning at the look of surprise that crossed his face.

"You haven't?" The question popped out before he could stop himself, a hoarse plea of hopefulness. She shook her head, metal fingers tracing cool patterns along his skin.

"I was content with keeping those memories as my last," she murmured, giving a little gasp of surprise as he abruptly rolled them over, propping himself up on his elbows above her.

"Wrap your legs around me," he commanded, voice hoarse, and she obeyed, whimpering as he began to press himself into her, inch by inch, until finally he was hilted and she was squirming and shaking from the incredible fullness. "El-," he groaned, and she felt tears spring into her eyes, abruptly tracing down her cheeks. "I will always protect you." One big hand freed itself to gently wipe the droplets from her face, and she gazed up into his fierce expression of love and couldn't help but give him a wide, trembling smile.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, rewarded as he thrust into her, branding her with his length. He buried his face in her hair, murmuring sweet words in German as he claimed her again and again, not stopping until she'd taken her pleasure once, twice, three times-and then he finally released inside of her with a roar of her name. As they lay there together afterward, on their sides with him wrapped around her, stroking a finger across her metallic one, she pulled his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. "Ich liebe dich."

"I love you too, El." His words sounded strangled, as if the massive man were holding back tears of his own. "But if you vanish from my arms tonight, I will put this entire war on hold to hunt you down."

She chuckled, shaking her head as she curled up against him, marvelling at the way they fit against one another.

"No chance of that."

And yet he barely slept that night, waking often just to reassure himself that her warm, soft body was still tucked up against his, rolling her onto her stomach more than once to take her slowly from behind, drinking in her cries of pleasure and happiness. When the morning came, he glanced down onto the pretty face that captivated him so, her purple eyes closed, expression peaceful, and he felt a swelling of pride and love in his chest that his queen had chosen him as her knight.

Years later, he felt that same explosion of love in his chest as his now-wife held their newborn to her breast, lifting her amethyst eyes to him and giving a soft smile.

"She's beautiful," he croaked, rubbing a hand beneath his eyes to keep the tears from coming. "What should we call her?"

"I was thinking Brigitte," Ellie murmured, rocking the babe gently in her arms, watching as her husband knelt down and extended a shaking finger to stroke the little tuft of dark hair atop their daughter's head with incredible gentleness.

"Hello, Brigitte. I will -always- keep you safe."


End file.
